Poem – Tayi Tibble

Watching the Boys Play Rugby like flies swarming in black tidal pools or a milky way of sluts in short shorts and long socks, Catholic schoolboys teasing each other in the scrum. Bull-headed matadors depending on the score. The music of bones in their noses all smashed and spitty like pop rock candy. Make a pit-stop at the dairy, buy a scoop of chips to throw at the seagulls who can’t be scared off, red-eyed demons watching the boys play rugby. Eat too much or not enough. Throats dry but mouths open and over-glossed when the game is over, and

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